In a Ramada elevator in the Berkshires:
The elevator stopped and we were joined by a tall, slim lady of about sixty. She looked rather chic (at least by local standards) in black pants and and a black and white, horizontal-striped top. I was checking out her banged bob, and her generously applied, bright-red lipstick when my new friend D piped up.
"Are you on your way to kill someone?" I looked over and only then noticed that the lady was carrying a long, sharp knife in her hand. She laughed, exposing lipstick-coated teeth, and answered in a faint and charming accent (British?).
"We're having cheese upstairs."
"So you have a separate knife to use on people, then?" D asked.
"You never know; we haven't even started on our first bottle yet," she confided, gesturing with her knife.
That's where we got off. I sort of wanted her to join us.